Homecoming
by earthy4
Summary: In which Remus retires to a nice, peaceful little cottage in the country and meets up with an unexpected guest. PostPoA, preGoF.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Aftermath (pt 1)

**Genre: **fanfic (Harry Potter)

**Setting: **post-PoA, pre GoF

**Rating: **pretty darn G unless you don't like very vague Remus x Sirius innuendo, in which case I'd give it a PG, tops.

**Notes: **Harry Potter and co. are owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers and perhaps other people, none of whom is me. I'm just having fun, so please don't sue me!

He stood in front of the little wooden gate, the slightly overgrown garden stretching weedy vines out toward where he'd put down his tattered suitcase so that he could reach into his pocket and take out the note one more time. In the late afternoon twilight the thatched roof of the cottage turned deep yellow and orange, and the windows had a cheery look to them, enough to make the tiny cottage seem like an incredibly comforting mansion rather than the dilapidated shack he had expected. Once again Dumbledore had outdone himself.

He read the note again.

_Remus --  
Please find enclosed your severance pay and directions to a charming little place I think you'll enjoy. Mind you don't irritate the third step from the bottom -- it has a rather nasty cold just now and has been known to eat socks. The garden should behave itself and hasn't maimed anyone in years.  
Albus Dumbledore_

He smiled a little, then took a deep breath and stepped through the gate. The weeds rustled in the wind, and he had the disturbing impression that the rhododendron bush was staring at him. Walking as quickly as he could while still maintaining some semblance of dignity, he went up the path to the doorstep and, taking the key from his other pocket, opened the door and let himself in.

It was small and rather dark, an open living room and kitchen with a flight of stairs presumably leading to the bedroom. It obviously hadn't been lived in lately, as the whole place was covered in dust, but a good cleaning charm would do the trick, and he could tell that before long it would be a nice place to have all to himself…

…except for the lump of black fur which had sprawled itself on the floor beside the fireplace.

Remus set down his scant luggage noisily. "I wasn't aware that the house came with a pet," he said in the lump's general direction.

It looked up with a shaggy head and erect ears, gazing at Remus intently. A little whine came from the back of its throat, and it got carefully to its feet and trotted over to sit in front of him, gazing up at him with huge, curiously blue eyes. It even wagged its tail for good measure.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Don't even try it. Where's Buckbeak?"

The dog motioned with its head to the back door, which Remus noted had been nearly broken in two. The floor around it was covered in mud. Through the window across the way he could see a hippogriff napping in a petunia patch. Remus rubbed his tired eyes.

Heading back to the entryway, he found a closet which contained a single, rather shabby mop. This he took and threw at the dog's feet.

"Right then, get to it." Remus took off his cloak and turned around to find the dog staring piteously at him. He made a noble effort not to laugh, with mixed results. "That's not going to work, Padfoot. Move it."

The dog whined shortly and held up one massive paw.

"You're not an invalid, you know," Remus said sternly. "You -- " He stopped and looked at the proffered paw. "You're bleeding." The dog looked as smug as it is possible for an injured canine to look.

Remus sighed and threw his cloak over the dog. "Change back so I can look at it," he said, heading for the kitchen to rummage around for bandages. He heard a pop as he rifled through the drawers, and when he turned around a very disheveled Sirius Black was wrapped in Remus' cloak and protectively holding his left arm, which had a nasty-looking gash running from elbow to wrist.

"Bloody bird breath has it in for me," said Sirius in a very sulky tone.

"Don't suppose you bothered to feed him in the last two weeks?" said Remus, unearthing a package of bandages from beneath an enormous pile of rubber bands.

Sirius sniffed. "Am I his mum?"

"No, you're his lunch unless you find him something better on a regular basis." Remus found a relatively clean-looking rag and, after waiting for the water from the faucet to turn a normal color, wet it and turned back to his friend. "Arm," he commanded.

Sirius held out his wounded arm warily, then let out a loud yelp and a string of curses when the rag touched the wound.

"Good to know you didn't forget everything in Azkaban," said Remus cheerfully, sitting down at the kitchen table and ignoring Sirius' dirty look. He slid the bandages across the table and waited for Sirius to apply one. "Now then…I'd offer you tea but your only options would be dust- or rubber band-flavored, although maybe we could find a rat or two…."

"Second cupboard to the left of the stove," Sirius said, an odd glint in his eyes. Remus found he remembered that glint; it meant do and ask questions later, provided one really wanted to know, and one generally didn't. Eying Sirius warily, Remus stood up once more and went to the cupboards. Sure enough, in the second cupboard to the left of the stove, there was a small olive green tin with a very posh label explaining that the contents were of the tea leaf variety.

"House-warming gift," said Sirius, sounding very pleased with himself.

"Sirius," said Remus slowly, "you haven't got any money."

Sirius shrugged. "Yeah, I nicked it from a shop in Hogsmeade. That's the brand you like, right? Would've gotten the bigger one but I didn't think I could dismantle the anti-theft hex without a wand. Smaller one was easy to get out, though. They really ought to hire a better warding team."

Remus set the tin down on the counter and took a deep breath. "Sirius. You're on the run from dementors, wanted for murder, and on your way out of town you decided it was a good idea to stop by Tuppence Twopenny's Tea Salon and nick a tin of their most expensive brand?"

Sirius grinned, a disturbingly aged shadow of his former self . "Sure, Moony; had to make up for not being able to stay long this time. Anyway I know how you are about tea."

Remus tried to ignore the slightly queasy feeling in his stomach which was probably in no way a reaction to hearing his former nickname spoken after twelve years by someone he'd come to accept as dead to him. Now was not the time for queasiness; it was the time for rigorous scolding, which Remus would have engaged in immediately if Sirius hadn't taken that moment to let out an enormous yawn which probably shook the very foundations of the little house.

Remus couldn't quite hide an exasperated smile. "The tea can wait. Why don't you go upstairs and rest?"

Sirius waved a hand and stifled another yawn. "Nah, I can take the couch down here. You take the bedroom; it's your house, after all."

"Kind of you to notice," said Remus dryly, but Sirius had already bounded out of the room. When Remus followed a moment later, he found Sirius already sprawled out on the couch in the living room, still wrapped in Remus' cloak. He hadn't bothered to take the dust cover off of the couch and was lying on top of it, making a big show of snoring loudly.

Remus rolled his eyes. "At least let me find you something to wear first."

Without opening his eyes, Sirius snorted. "Unless you've gained at least three inches in the past twelve years, the pants will be too short, and the shirt will probably be that obnoxious dung color you seem to like so much. No thanks."

"It's tan," said Remus, head in the hallway closet as he looked for something to transfigure into a pillow and blanket. "And what are you going to do, wander about in the nude?"

Sirius opened his eyes long enough to glance at Remus and waggle his eyebrows suggestively. "Would you like that, Moony?"

A pillow, a blanket, and a pile of clothing hit him in the face, muffling his subsequent exclamation. Satisfied with his handiwork, Remus picked up his tattered suitcase and headed for the stairs.

He'd gotten only one foot up before Sirius' voice trailed after him. "Remus." The tone was completely different than their earlier bantering; it was tired, careful, painful. Hearing it, Remus had to remind himself to breathe.

"Later, Sirius," he said quietly. "Sleep now."

Sirius' voice came again, distorted through the pillow. "Yes, Mum."

Remus shook his head and went upstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Aftermath (pt 2)

**Genre: **fanfic (Harry Potter)

**Setting: **post-PoA, pre GoF

**Rating: **some swearing, some boys kissing, but all in all, still pretty tame

**Notes: **Harry Potter and co. are owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers and perhaps other people, none of whom is me. I'm just having fun, so please don't sue me!

He woke with a start in the dark, disoriented and sore. The book he had been reading had slipped into his lap and lay there open, the pages illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window. He'd fallen asleep sitting up, and was now paying for it: his neck ached and the barely-healed cuts on his chest were stretched uncomfortably.

He sat there in the dark for a moment, trying to remember when exactly he'd fallen asleep, when he suddenly realized, more importantly, why he'd been awakened. There was a noise coming from downstairs. A shuffling, a moan which escalated into something more like a yelp. It was muffled by the distance, but not very. A moment later Remus nearly jumped out of his skin as it became a blood-curdling scream.

Sirius.

He fumbled with the book and banged his hand on the bedside table as he tried to get to his feet and find his wand at the same time. Not bothering to put on shoes or button his shirt, Remus hastily swiped his wand from the floor, muttered a quick "Lumos," and hurried out of the room and down the stairs.

Sirius had apparently decided to make tan his color, having put on the clothes Remus had offered him earlier. He might have been using the blanket as well, but Remus couldn't be sure, since it was now on the ground. Sirius writhed pitifully on the couch, muttering to himself, obviously in the midst of a troubling dream. As Remus came nearer he saw his friend's face contorted with enough fear to send a shiver down Remus' spine. "Sirius…." he said awkwardly.

"Don't…not me, you bastards, I didn't…don't come near me…."

"Sirius." He leaned closer, his wand casting strange shadows on the beads of sweat that covered Sirius' face. "Sirius, it's a dream. Wake up."

Sirius shook his head vigorously and started yelling. "NonononoNO --"

"Sirius --"

His hand snaked out and grabbed Remus' wrist. Startled, Remus dropped his wand, and the room was plunged into darkness. Remus could hear Sirius breathing heavily, clinging to his hand so tightly that it hurt. He didn't dare move.

After a moment which felt more like twelve years, Sirius' breathing steadied and his body stopped moving. Remus hesitated; then, feeling Sirius' clammy grip on his wrist relax, he gently returned the hand to its owner's chest. And then he gazed at Sirius, sleeping soundly for all the world as though nothing had happened.

He had known Azkaban would change Sirius; the moment he'd seen the wild eyes in the Shrieking Shack, the way Sirius could barely contain himself in front of Harry and the others, Remus knew things would be different. Realizing Sirius' innocence didn't change the fact that he'd been a prisoner for twelve years, locked up in a hall full of nightmares and soul-sucking dark creatures. Remus knew the old Padfoot he remembered was in there somewhere -- often quite near the surface, actually -- but it was as if a thin veil had descended between himself and the world, keeping the Sirius he knew from ever truly resurfacing. Looking down at him now in the middle of the night, when Sirius was unable to hide so well as during daylight, Remus suddenly wondered whether he really knew him at all anymore.

His eyes had by now adjusted to the dark. He picked up his wand from where it had fallen on the floor and returned it to his pocket. Retrieving the blanket from the floor, he carefully covered Sirius' now prone body with it. He then stood for a moment gazing at his sleeping friend, knowing he should leave Sirius to sleep, but somehow unwilling to go. A strange feeling gnawed at his stomach. His wrist was still warm from where Sirius had held it.

"Remus."

He was relatively certain his heart skipped a beat. "Go back to sleep, Sirius," he said automatically. "We can talk in the morning." He turned to go, but Sirius' low voice stopped him.

"You must think I'm an utter wanker."

Remus rubbed his eyes. "No, I do not think you're a wanker, Sirius."

"It's the dementors, you know," Sirius continued, surprisingly calm. "Can't get the bloody bastards out of my head. Been dreaming about them ever since I got out; and it's been worse since I saw them at Hogwarts." Though Remus wasn't facing him, he could hear the shudder in Sirius' voice. "But that's nothing, nothing compared to dreaming about James and Lily…that night…seeing them…." The air was thick with his hesitation. "I'm falling apart, mate," he said finally.

Remus knelt down next to the couch. "Sirius," he said quietly, "You have every right to fall apart. Spending twelve years in Azkaban…frankly I'm surprised you've been holding together as well as you have."

Sirius looked up at him through a veil of dark, matted hair, his eyes reflecting moonlight in a way that made Remus slightly queasy again. "We should have killed that damned rat when we had the chance," Sirius said in a low, dangerous voice.

"It wasn't our decision," Remus said sternly. "Harry wanted --"

"Was Harry the best person to judge that scum?" Sirius demanded. "Harry doesn't know him, what he's capable of --"

"Harry's been affected by Peter's actions just as much as you or I have, maybe more. He has every right to determine Peter's fate. And we owe it to Harry to stand by his decision."

He could feel Sirius' eyes on him. "Reasonable as ever, Moony," he said quietly. Then, after a moment he added, "Don't you ever get sick of it?"

Remus raised his eyebrows and smiled a little. "Not particularly."

"How about lying? Do you get tired of that?"

Remus frowned. "What are you --"

"When were we going to talk, Remus? Tomorrow morning? The next day? The day after that? How long were you going to talk about tea and the weather and whatever other bloody inane topic you could come up with?"

"I --" Remus hesitated. "I only meant to wait until you were ready --"

"Ready for what?" Sirius sat up and stared at him with dark, unreadable eyes. "Ready to get Azkaban all out of my system? Ready to go back to being who I was? There is no going back, Remus. This is me now. This is the world now. We don't get back that time. Things don't get put right like some bloody fairy tale. Those twelve years are gone and they're not coming back. We can banter all you like and pretend nothing's happened but it doesn't change the fact that it has happened and that's not something you or I can get ready for, it just happens. It just is."

Remus took in the new shadows under his eyes, his slightly thinned hair, the way his skin seemed to hang off of his frame like a jacket too big for its hanger. He looked at Sirius and thought that even if they were dimmer, those were still the same dark blue eyes they had always been. "All right," he said. "Let's talk."

Sirius nodded and leaned back. "Right. First you can explain that." He stretched a long, thin finger toward Remus' chest. Remus suddenly remembered he hadn't bothered to button his shirt, and the latest scars were probably showing. Feeling himself flush for absolutely no good reason, he quickly pulled his shirt closed and wrapped his arms around himself.

"I --"

"They're from the last one, aren't they?"

Not able to look at him, Remus nodded.

"Have the transformations been like this since…?"

Remus found his voice. "Severus has been making the potion for me. It usually works quite well. Only that night in all the confusion I forgot to take it, which made the whole thing…difficult."

"And I wasn't there for you."

Remus half-smiled. "I think you were a bit preoccupied at the time, so I won't hold it against you."

"Moony, I --" He stopped, turned his face toward the shadows, tried again. "Do you remember when we first found out about you? I'd been wondering why you were always covered in bandages. I had tried pretending to believe your stories about being a klutz but I'd never really bought it and neither had James or even Peter. When you get down to it you've always been a horrible liar." He let out a little laugh which sounded more like a cough. Remus supposed it had been so long since he'd really laughed, he'd forgotten what it ought to sound like.

"And then we came up with this great plan -- well, Prongs came up with most of it, he was always the clever one, I was mostly around for my looks, and Pete, well, he was our charity case -- and I saw how nervous you were about us knowing and all, and I couldn't wait to show you what we were doing. Then we finally did it and we bloody near surprised you to death which would've been a shame after all that work on your behalf and then the Marauders were really marauding and you weren't so covered in bandages all the time until after a few months you were hardly ever in bandages at all unless I took a swing at you, which almost never happened because you have the most amazing right-hook and I didn't really want to risk it unless I happened to be feeling completely stupid, and I thought…I thought maybe I'd done something right for once instead of screwing up like I usually do because, I dunno, you looked…happy. And there were no more bandages. No more scars.

"But now…." He turned his head back toward Remus, and it looked like it had taken some effort. "Now it's like…none of that ever happened. Or it did, but it hasn't lasted. So maybe it wasn't such a great thing after all. Maybe nothing I've done has ever been of any use to you. And I can't have that, Moony, because -- because I have to do something for you."

Remus frowned and gripped the fabric of his shirt so tightly that his hands hurt. "Sirius, you don't have to do anything. I'm just…glad you're alive. Glad you're here." That he was innocent. That he always had been -- inasmuch as Sirius Black could ever be innocent. That Remus didn't have to keep berating himself for never quite being able to hate him.

Sirius shook his head. "It's not enough. Call me an idiot if you want, but it's not enough. Not when I -- when you -- Listen, Moony, I'm going to make it up to you for everything. I'm not going to be satisfied until you are blissfully, sublimely happy, and even then, only if I'm the one to do it."

Remus wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or change the subject as quickly as possible. "What are you talking about, Sirius?"

"Look, I spent a lot of time thinking in Azkaban, sometimes about how I was going to kill that damned rat or find Harry or just find a good, messy way to off a few dementors, but mostly I thought about how much I've screwed up and how I wasn't getting any second chances and even if I did I would only ruin that chance too, maybe a third and fourth and fifth besides, but in the end I decided it would be worth it to get out and never remember a single happy memory or even just get caught and hexed out of existence the next day if only I could find you first and make you believe me, believe that I hadn't done it, believe that even if I'd messed up absolutely everything else in my life that at least I'd meant to do right where you're concerned and if it didn't always seem that way, well, you always knew I was an idiot, but you can't say it was from lack of trying because I've always tried to do right by you and somehow it never seemed right enough and I don't know if this is right or not but I -- I think I'm going to have to kiss you, so please don't hit me."

Remus looked at him, alarmed. "Sirius, y -- fllmph," he said very distinctly as he suddenly realized that Sirius had thrown his arms around Remus' neck and was bowling the two of them over onto the floor, managing to bump noses rather painfully on the way down. Sirius landed on top of him which, though it hardly seemed possible, made Remus even more uncomfortable. Now would be a perfect time to demand that Sirius get the bloody hell off of him, take his hippogriff out of the backyard, and get out, dementors be damned. That was, in fact, exactly what Remus was going to do this instant, before things got anymore ridiculous. He was not going to lie here with Sirius on top of him, face barely inches from his own, wondering why, though of course his feelings for Sirius were entirely platonic and he most certainly had never looked at or thought about him more than was absolutely necessary, never mind that that had meant that Remus was nearly always thinking of him, some part of him was sternly having him stay put.

He remembered that moment in his office when he'd seen Peter's name on the map; the moment when he'd heard Sirius' voice, raspy with lack of use, telling him that they'd switched, that he'd never been the Secretkeeper, that Sirius was innocent….He remembered the almost unbearable relief and, somehow, panic, that had caused him to grab Sirius' hands and embrace him there in the Shack with Harry and the others watching, dumbfounded. In that one moment nothing else had mattered except holding Sirius in his arms and making sure that he was real, that it hadn't been wrong to think of him all these years. Careful, polite, responsible Remus had never liked being touched, but in that instant he'd forgotten Harry and Ron and Hermione, forgotten where he was and who he was, and the only thing that had mattered was Sirius. Arrogant, charming, heart-breaking Sirius who was somehow, underneath all the dirt and darkness and scars, the same boy Remus had never quite let himself love.

"I thought of all the things you'd say," said Sirius quietly, his hand barely touching Remus' cheek. "You'd tell me I'm crazy, that it's just because of Azkaban, some psychological thing like in one of those boring books you always read, like it's some reaction to trauma and that it doesn't mean anything, or it's because of the nightmares or psychosis or dust mites or --"

"Sirius."

He stopped. "What?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

Sirius blinked. "Oh. All right."

He closed his eyes and felt Sirius' lips touch his, gently at first, then more insistently when it apparently came to Sirius' attention that Remus was not only reciprocating but was also much more interested in feeling Sirius move against him than in applying any right hooks in the near future. In fact Remus was beginning to think that it was quite lovely to be this close to Sirius and it might be nice to never have to breathe again when Sirius reluctantly pulled away.

"You didn't hit me," he said, breathless.

"I didn't," agreed Remus, brushing a strand of dark hair out of Sirius' eyes.

"Oh," said Sirius. "That's good." He leaned forward like he might like to try the whole thing again, and quite frankly Remus very much wanted to as well, but he felt something had to be asked first.

"Sirius."

"Hmm?" His face was so close that Remus was finding it difficult to concentrate.

"When was the last time you brushed your teeth?"

Sirius quirked an eyebrow. "The cells in Azkaban don't exactly come with toothbrushes, Moony."

Remus cringed. "Right, well that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Why your breath stinks."

The look Sirius gave him, caught somewhere between confusion and embarrassment, was too much for Remus, who burst out laughing. The last dregs of something akin to Black pride made Sirius mutter something and move away, but Remus sat up and pulled him into an awkward hug, clinging a little tighter than he'd intended to.

"Mr. Padfoot would like to express his admiration for Mr. Moony's audacity in embracing someone whose breath is so obviously repulsive to him," said Sirius dryly.

Remus snorted. "Mr. Moony accepts Mr. Padfoot's compliments but finds it necessary to point out that the so-called audacity is nothing much, as the pros definitively outweigh the cons."

"Is that so?"

"It is," said Remus. "However Mr. Moony would still recommend that Mr. Padfoot acquaint himself with the shower upstairs at his earliest convenience."

"Mr. Padfoot would like to take this moment to inquire if Mr. Moony will be joining him in said shower."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Perhaps Mr. Padfoot ought not count his dragons before they're hatched."

They sat in silence for a moment before Sirius spoke again. "Um…Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"…Were you going to let go of me any time soon?"

"Wasn't planning on it," said Remus quietly.


End file.
